


franz marc's blue horses

by jay (tofupofu)



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Campaign 05: A Crown of Candy, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, Good Calroy, Good Constano Grissini, Jet Lives, Lapin Lives, Preston Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28449426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofupofu/pseuds/jay
Summary: The world is, unfortunate as it is, extremely cruel. Love, death, and grief are omnipresent. But it doesn't have to be. Calorum is a world of pain and sorrow, but this is my goddamn fanfiction, and I cried when Preston died, so fuck that.Don't get me wrong, grief and pain and death are still inevitable, but they can be softer. The roar of a forest fire and the gentle glow of a candle still have the same story--they are lit, they burn, and they sputter and smoke. The meaning of the story is still the same, through the trials and tribulations, the answer is still love. This is the same story you've heard before. It's just kinder.
Relationships: Primsy Coldbottle/Liam Wilhelmina Jawbreaker
Comments: 8
Kudos: 4
Collections: Dimension 20 Big Bang





	franz marc's blue horses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadowfelldmv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowfelldmv/gifts).



> this has been a really long time in the making. thank you to the big bang mods, the other bb participants, and most of all to my beta, caroline, and my pinch-hitter artist, nicki. you can find caroline [here](https://twitter.com/voxphantasma), and you can find nicki [here (twitter)](https://twitter.com/sofhtie_) and [here (tumblr)](https://sofhtie.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> i have had so much fun working on this fic and this absolutely wouldn't have been possible without the help of any of the people i mentioned here. i feel the need to especially shout-out nicki, who had exactly two days to make a full art piece for this fic. she created an absolute masterpiece (which you can find [here](https://twitter.com/sofhtie_/status/1344827198641868800), or later in the fic) and has been just an absolute delight to work with.
> 
> [also, here's the obligatory spotify playlist for songs i listened to while i wrote this lmao](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/23aVGUZXrhTDa6bJeMoW1Z?si=mCb1MXD4Qjm95RHPxLqtmQ)

_I step into the painting of the four blue horses._ _  
_ _I am not even surprised that I can do this._

_One of the horses walks toward me._ _  
_ _His blue nose noses me lightly. I put my arm_ _  
_ _over his blue mane, not holding on, just_ _  
_ _commingling._ _  
_ _He allows me my pleasure._ _  
_ _Franz Marc died a young man, shrapnel in his brain._ _  
_ _I would rather die than try to explain to the blue horses_ _  
_ _what war is._ _  
_ _They would either faint in horror, or simply_ _  
_ _find it impossible to believe._ _  
_ _I do not know how to thank you, Franz Marc._ _  
_ _Maybe our world will grow kinder eventually._ _  
_ _Maybe the desire to make something beautiful_ _  
_ _is the piece of God that is inside each of us._ _  
_ _Now all four horses have come closer,_ _  
_ _are bending their faces toward me_ _  
_ _as if they have secrets to tell._ _  
_ _I don’t expect them to speak, and they don’t._   
_If being so beautiful isn’t enough, what_ _  
_ could they possibly say?

Lapin does not feel the pain. The Sugar Plum Fairy reaches forward, and Lapin takes her hand. Preston bounds after him, and the last thing he hears is the nasty squelching of his cherry blood on the floor, the _crack_ of Preston’s body breaking.

He does not envy the living. They will be around to fight the wars, and he is free now.

“You did well,” The fairy says, drawing him in and caressing his head, “You did so well, sweetest.”

Lapin bows his head and cries into her shoulder. It feels good, and if he stops thinking about it he can almost pretend the arms are of someone he actually likes. There’s a moment where he relaxes, all the tension of a long, fraught life leaving his bones. He realizes he is a young man again, spry and light-footed.

Suddenly, he feels something stirring, the fairy gasps, and Lapin feels himself tugged backwards by the navel. He falls, scrambling for purchase on the rough sugary sands of the afterlife. In his panic, Lapin grabs hold of Preston’s leg, and Preston squeals with delight.

He comes to in Calorum, in a cell, surrounded by the Pontifex, half a dozen royal guard, and Keradin. He gags, spitting blood out of his mouth, and then the pain hits him. All seventy-something years of his life rush back into his bones, and they creak as he lands back in his body.

“You will not perform magic within these walls,” The Pontifex snarls, “Heretic.”

Lapin gasps, crumbling to the ground. He doesn’t hear the Pontifex’s words, and at the moment he doesn’t really care. He lands on the ground, awkwardly, and knows he can’t get back up. He reaches for his magic, the familiarity of excitement and joy in the back of his mind, and he finds nothing.

Lapin wishes for the fairy and feels his prayers go to a cell that is empty except for himself. He looks up and sees Belizabeth’s face on the other side of the bars.

“You will be executed as a traitor in the morning, the right way,” Belizabeth says, but Lapin hears his father’s voice instead.

_“The rabbit’s foot is never lucky for the rabbit it was taken from,”_ His father says one night, drunk on cola cider. He remembers his sister brushing his fur, calming him on the floor of their room in the burrow. Lapin remembers when he had something to lose. Mostly, Lapin remembers.

Lapin comes to the conclusion that he is _exhausted_. The broccoli-iron shackles weigh heavy on his wrists, his fingers feel trapped. Not that it matters--Lapin feels his string to the Sugar Plum Fairy disconnected and broken. Or, rather, finished. He’d completed all of her wishes; he’d protected the family, he’d gone with them to the tournament, and he’d gone home. He just hadn’t stayed.

There’s nothing in him. He’s never been afraid of death before, but now that uncertainty was thrown into the mix again... He’s so terrified, he’s numb. There are no more tricks, no more cards in his sleeves, no more placating words, no more twists in the burrow. Lapin was done, and that was terrifying. He’d never been forced to stop running before. He’d run from his home, from his family, from the terror of poverty and the humiliation of insignificance. 

He’s brought out of his thoughts by the sound of heels clicking in time, then boots following. Only Keradin remains.

“Don’t you have a family to go home to?” Lapin asks Keradin, who jumps at the sound of Lapin’s voice. Lapin doesn’t blame him--his voice is shot, hoarse and quiet. He hasn’t said a word since he died.

“My duty to the church comes first,” Keradin speaks with utter contempt and hatred in his voice, “Unlike some, I remain loyal to the Bulb above.”

“I can’t give you my word, because it doesn’t mean much,” Lapin sighs, “But, you know, I can’t go anywhere. I can’t cast spells without my hands. I don’t even think I still have a connection to my Goddess.”

“The Hungry One? Why would He drop His connection to you?” Keradin asks, surprise barely hidden in his voice. Lapin supposes it doesn’t matter, since he’s going to die anyway.

“The Sugar Plum Fairy,” Lapin says dryly, and Keradin double-takes at that, “She’s a goddess of the Sweetening Path. When I--uh--pledged myself to her, I owed her three boons in exchange for magic. I repaid her for her services, and now our transaction has ended. I have no magic left.”

“Ah,” Keradin nods slowly.

Lapin asks again, “Why do you guard me if you are so confident in the Pontifex’s work? Were you ordered to?”

“We do not know your power, Lightfoot, and I have no reason to trust you,” Keradin says, “You said it yourself--your word means nothing.”

“That’s true,” Lapin says, and then, as abruptly as he awoke, he falls back into unconsciousness.

He dreams of running through the forest, free and light, the last memory he had before he was no longer a child. His siblings ran beside him, all four feet touching the ground in tandem as they raced along the cherry syrup creek. Then, all of a sudden, something was chasing after them. Lapin couldn’t tell if it was man or beast or something else, but its feet trampled on the ground, heavy and steady, and Lapin knew that if they were caught, they’d be in trouble. They ran faster and faster and faster, but it wasn’t enough, and Lapin’s brother tripped and broke his ankle. He cried out, but Lapin couldn’t stop running to help him. His cries grew louder, then quieter, then louder, then there was no sound but the rustle of leaves on the trees. Lapin had been separated from his siblings.

Lapin knew exactly where he was, but the appeal of dying (or, rather, appearing to die) along with his siblings was too great. He never went home.

When Lapin wakes, the room is pitch black. He has a small, barred window at the top of his cell, and a drizzle of rain is coming in through it. He inches away from the spray, but he can’t quite get out of it.

Then, Lapin hears something. At first, he thinks it’s water dripping onto the ground somewhere, but then he hears it for what it is--the soft tapping of feet on the stone. Whatever it is sounds small, at least. Then, the door to his cell room clicks open, and Preston trots into the room, happy as could be.

“Oh, it’s you,” Lapin sighs, “Could you do something useful for me?”

Preston pushes Lapin’s cell door open with his muzzle, like it was nothing for him. Lapin perks up, heart beginning to beat rapidly in his chest.

“You brilliant little pig,” Lapin whispers, “Now do whatever you just did to my chains.”

Preston snorts and obliges, touching his nose to the locks of Lapin’s manacles. They fall off his wrists and hands, and he can move his fingers again. Lapin smiles, reaching out with stiff fingers for Preston. Preston nuzzles into Lapin’s hands, and Lapin scratches Preston’s chin.

“You don’t suppose they’ll have left my staff somewhere, do you?” Lapin asks, although he doesn’t expect Preston to know, “I need something to help me walk.”

Preston chuffs and trots away, leaving Lapin once again to his thoughts. Lapin tries to get to his feet and finds that he has broken ribs and a suspiciously swollen right leg. On his other three limbs, he limps into the corridor, hoping there are no guards. He finds one, snoring, and wonders how his manacles falling hadn’t woken him up. Softly, he crawls past him, towards an exit he knows from his first visits to Comida as a young man. The tapestry moves gently to the side, and Lapin collapses just behind it, breathing heavily and stifling his gasps with every breath. He’s glad that he never learned how to mind his own business as a child.

Soon enough, though, he hears the sound of something heavy being dragged along the ground. As it draws close to his hiding spot, he peers through the edge of the tapestry to see Preston dragging the Lollistaff behind him.

“Bulb above, Preston, could you be making any more noise?” Lapin hisses, pulling the Lollistaff, and, by association, Preston, into his nook. He’s grateful, though, because the Lollistaff hums with energy, and he feels himself lost in its swirls again.

“Let’s get out of here,” Lapin nods to Preston, using the lollistaff as a crutch and hobbling up a spiral staircase and out into the rain. By now, it’s a healthy downpour, and Lapin knows his time is running short, so he walks promptly into the woods.

“Preston, listen to me,” Lapin says, sitting in front of a tree, “I am an old man, but I do not want to die. I need you to find some food for me, and a large cloth to keep them in. And, if you can manage, some coin and a change of clothes. We need to leave as soon as the troops are alerted to my absence.”

Preston does what Lapin takes as a salute, straightening and springing off into town. He makes several trips, bringing Lapin Ceresian cakes and a milk-silk scarf. On his fifth trip into town, Lapin hears a commotion in the castle and wills Preston to return soon. Preston does, with a bag full of ceresian marks. Lapin thanks him and starts to hobble into the woods.

Lapin grew up in the forest, but even still, he is much more concerned with staying hidden than finding his way. As the night turns into day, sleep tugs at his consciousness, but he knows if he sleeps they will find him.

“We’ll press on through the night and sleep tomorrow during the day,” Lapin says to Preston, “Don’t want to die by their hands or by exposure.”

Preston nods, understanding, and they break for lunch. Lapin’s stomach begs for more, but he doesn’t oblige it. Lapin finds a stream, a cider creek that tastes just a little sweet, and he knows he’s going the right way. As dusk approaches, they wander into a town, and Lapin stops for a minute. Keeping an eye out, he meanders into town, picking up a change of clothes and a real rucksack, as well as some more food. He can’t help himself (it’s been a long time since he’s had to mind his own hunger) and he eats an entire strudel while it’s still warm. The town looks small and, more importantly, there are no soldiers that Lapin can see.

Lapin thinks, for a minute, that he sees someone familiar as he walks back into the woods. Just a flash, but all the same, it terrifies him. 

He finds a secure spot in the woods, changes, and he wraps his ankle. As he stands up, there’s a rustle of the leaves that shouldn’t be there. Lapin’s ear twitches.

He’s barely moved before there’s a knife in the tree right behind him. Lapin stands taller and grits his teeth, spitting familiar words out of his mouth. His staff glows, and Calroy Cruller walks out of the shadows, smiling, a little purple lingering in his eyes.

“Terribly sorry, good fellow,” Calroy smiles, “You know how it is, right?”

Lapin nods and dismisses the spell. “Of course. You must know, I had no part in all that… mess.”

“Terrible, really,” Calroy says, not missing a beat, “Neither did I.”

“Is there anybody else in your company?” Lapin asks, peering around the corner. Calroy’s face falls, and he shakes his head.

“Afraid not,” He says, sighing, “Lady Donetta as well as Lord and Lady Swirly got caught in the fire, to my knowledge.”

Lapin’s eyes widen. “The fire?”

“You didn’t know? They set fire to the Candian accommodations,” Calroy says, checking the wind and starting north, “It’s unfortunate, but we’re at war now. No time to mourn.”

Lapin eyes Calroy and sets his face before starting to walk forward. The wrap helps his ankle, but he still slows Calroy down considerably. Calroy doesn’t mention it, which Lapin is grateful for. They don’t make small talk.

The second day ends quietly, and they agree to walk through the night. If Lapin felt exhausted before, now, he’s on death’s door. Every step is a struggle, and he’s going so slow they’re hardly going anywhere. Lapin shakes like a sugar-lamb with every step.

“You need to rest,” Calroy notices, glancing down at Lapin’s foot.

“It’ll just be stiff in the morning,” Lapin says, “We need to keep moving.”

“Okay,” Calroy says, not believing Lapin in the slightest. Of course, not ten seconds later, he’s proven right when Lapin’s leg buckles even with the help of his staff. He lands on the ground with a huff.

“You’re not a young man any more,” Calroy says, only chastising a little, “We’ll rest for an hour and walk to the next town. We’ll stay at a hostel.”

“No need,” Lapin mutters, “I’ve slept in caves before. It’s not so bad.”

Calroy raises an eyebrow at Lapin, “You need proper rest.”

“I can get proper rest,” Lapin snaps, “I spent a few years grifting in the North. I’ve slept on a stone floor before.”

Calroy looks, for once in his life, completely speechless. “I didn’t--”

“You didn’t know because nobody knows,” Lapin sighs, “Even you do not know every secret, Spymaster.”

Lapin gets settled on the ground, tossing Calroy the rucksack to use as a pillow. Lapin curls up, tucking his arms under his head, when he feels a wet, soft nose nudging his forehead. Lapin opens his eyes to find Preston looking back at him. It takes Lapin a second to realize what he wants, but Lapin acquiesces, lifting his head up so Preston can squirm under him. Preston is cool and soft, and Lapin finds sleep surprisingly easy, slipping into a pleasant, dreamless slumber.

They walk through the gates of Dulcington in the dead of night. Calroy is exhausted beyond belief, tired to the point of fighting to keep his eyes open, but he still sees them. They’re not as stealthy as they like to imagine, and Calroy knows how to spot thieves. 

He points them out to Lapin. “I’ll follow them, you go to the palace. Caramelinda, I’m sure, would be glad to see you again.”

Lapin nods, turning to face the castle. Calroy knows it’s unlikely he’ll walk without a limp ever again, but Lapin seems to be getting around well enough. Calroy follows the trio into a lingerie store (a lingerie store? Really?) and holds his ear up to the door just long enough to know it’s a trap. An incredibly obvious trap.

Calroy opens the door so hard he can hear it slam into the wall, cracking the gingerbread. Everyone turns to face him, the children and a handful of masked assassins. Calroy can smell sourdough in the air.

“Princesses! Wilhelmina! What on Bulb’s bright Earth are you doing here?” Calroy snaps, drawing a dagger.

“What do you _mean,_ what are we doing here?” Ruby snaps back, “What are _you_ doing here?”

There’s some muttering in Ceresian, and then two attackers advance on Calroy. He can’t see them exactly, but he can hear them, and they don’t sound like they’re pulling ranged weapons. Calroy waits until the air around him warms and effortlessly plunges a dagger into the skull of one assailant, turning around and slitting the throat of the other. The bodies _thud_ to the floor.

“I suggest you let us leave,” Calroy says. A man, one of the assassins, laughs. Then everything explodes, several sets of feet hitting the ground.

Calroy doesn’t have time to protect the kids like he wants, but he hears the loading of a crossbow and thinks maybe he won’t have to. Regardless, he jumps forward, drawing his rapier and goring one of the attackers through the abdomen. He narrowly avoids a blade from a pair of glowing eyes, and he realizes the weapons they have. There’s a telltale _swish_ as the blade comes to a standstill beside the assassin, like the swinging of a canteen of cola.

“Watersteel! It’s watersteel, kids, get out! Get out!” Calroy shouts over the fray, turning and barreling towards Jet, Ruby, and Liam. He’s careful to feel for masks before killing anybody, but he still pushes through the fray to create a path back to the door.

“Run! Now!” Calroy demands, finishing off another Ceresian with, honestly, not as much flourish as he’d like. Luckily, he hears three pairs of feet scamper out the door. _Unluckily_ , he hears several other pairs of feet follow.

“Lord Cruller? Is this some sort of play?” A man, clearly Ciabatta, says.

“You!” Calroy whirls around, bloodied rapier facing Ciabatta’s voice, “You orchestrated an assassination plot against children!”

“Is this… is this a joke?” Ciabatta says cautiously, “You’re supposed to be at the castle, taking care of Amethar. I lost some good men to keep your cover!”

Calroy, absolutely flummoxed, stares at the glowing yellow-white eyes of a Ceresian senator. They look confused. Calroy and Ciabatta, both, are close to cracking a conspiracy they were never supposed to know about.

“Oh no,” Calroy whispers as it dawns on him, “ _Oh no_.”

Calroy begins to sprint after the children. They’ve got a substantial lead on him though, and just as he’s crossing over into the fields between Dulcington and the castle, he sees a meteor strike the earth.

Except it’s not a meteor, it’s his friend.

Calroy chooses not to think about the sour welcome he’s bound to receive, and he runs and he keeps running. He’s a sprinter, however, not a marathoner, so when he gets to the gorge where Amethar is laying, nearly dead, he’s out of breath and stomping without a single care in the world over the attention he attracts. 

He’s the last one to arrive. Already, the kids, Caramelinda, Lapin, Theo, and a strange man are there. Mostly, Calroy’s glad the kids managed to ditch the assassins.

Calroy doesn’t know how to break the silence, seeing Amethar embrace his kids (and Liam). He settles for dropping his rapier on the ground and approaching with his hands in the air.

“Amethar, I can explain,” Calroy says. Everyone snaps to attention, drawing their weapons and pointing them at him.

Immediately, Amethar turns to Calroy, rage flying off him like fireworks. “I trusted you!” Amethar snarls, “I trusted you with everything! You watched me _piss_ and _shit_ , and this is how you repay me?”

“No, no, I don’t know what happened, but I _promise_ you I didn’t do it,” Calroy pleads, “It was one of my brothers. I can’t tell you which one, but they want me gone. They want you gone. They tried to kill me, too.”

“You _stabbed_ a watersteel dagger into my back! You killed my whole family! You killed Lazuli!”

Caramelinda looks back to Amethar, shocked, and then turns to face Calroy with a terrifying fire in her eyes. Calroy feels a strange, bubbling panic rise in his chest. He sinks to his knees, utterly exhausted, and the fight leaves him. He knows his alibi means nothing.

“Okay. I can’t convince you. Do what you will,” Calroy says, hands falling. He wants to sleep more than anything he’s ever wanted in his life. He wants his bed back, he wants a hot meal, he wants the feeling of Amethar’s hand on his back again. He supposes that’s not going to happen.

He sits back on his heels and looks over at the family, feeling (not for the first time) like the universe has conspired against him personally. “Amethar, I walked all the way from Comida. A long nap in the mud would be doing me a kindness. They’ll kill me anyway if they find me.”

Lapin speaks up. “My king, I could be mistaken, but I believe Lord Cruller was a bit… occupied when you were stabbed.”

“How do we know? How do I know I can trust you?” Amethar says, and it doesn’t sound as angry this time, “It could have been an illusion, or one of your brothers covering for you.”

“He saved us from the assassins,” Jet adds, “But you could be right.”

Instead of anything actually insightful or even useful, Calroy says, “Amethar, do you remember the time I popped a pimple on your ass because you couldn’t get it?”

Amethar looks genuinely surprised, and stammers out, “Uh. Yeah?”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Amethar says, “If you really are Calroy, what’s something embarrassing about _you_ that only I know?”

“When I first came to the castle, I was so lonely that I tried to befriend the horses,” Calroy says immediately, “And I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to walk up behind them so one kicked me in the shoulder. I broke my collarbone and had a massive bruise for weeks and I told people I got it in a fight. You were the only one who saw the horse actually kick me.”

Amethar looks, for a moment, like he’s struggling to decide which emotion he should be feeling, because Amethar can only ever feel one emotion at once. The emotion he decides on seems to be some sort of love, and Amethar rushes forward to embrace Calroy. Calroy lets himself have a moment before he clears his throat.

“We need to mobilize,” Calroy says, still in Amethar’s arms, “They’re probably not far behind me.”

It’s only when they make it to Manta Ray’s ship that Calroy realizes he left his rapier in the gorge. He can’t quite bring himself to care, not when his family’s safe.

Calroy’s always felt a bit of a kinship with Manta Ray. Manta Ray was like a funhouse mirror, just Calroy with a few extra loose screws.

He manages to corner Manta Ray a little later in the night. “Any chance I could talk you into a drink?”

“Are you makin’ advances?” Manta Ray smiles.

“Lost my rapier earlier,” Calroy says, “Don’t get a big head. Just looking to make a deal.”

“Ah, you want to take a look at the armory,” Manta Ray’s smile only grows bigger, “Right this way. Can’t have a swashbuckler without a sword, now can we?”

“I have never been a swashbuckler, and you know it,” Calroy laughs, “You need sea legs for that.”

The armory is deeper in the ship, and Manta Ray doesn’t need to light any torches when he opens the door. Calroy raises an eyebrow at him.

“Candians aren’t the only ones with magic these days,” Manta Ray says, pointing to the nearest lantern. Calroy looks closer to see a miniscule, winged wheel of cheese, glowing a warm amber color and flitting back and forth in the lantern.

“Do they… like it in there?” Calroy asks, turning to look at Manta Ray.

“Sure, ain’t never got any trouble from them over it,” Manta Ray says, walking over to a knob secured to the wall. He jumps up, feet on one of the slanted, sideways boards, holding onto the knob and twisting. He pushes off the wall, and a massive drawer of swords comes out of the wall.

Calroy can’t help it. He drools a little. “Wow.”

“Take your pick,” Manta Ray gestures to the assortment.

Calroy steps over to the rack of swords and begins examining them. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll not take a penny from you,” Manta Ray insists, “Not so long as the Dairy Isles can count on her greatest ally.”

Calroy settles on a sabre that reminds him of the fencing lessons he’d taken as a child. It’s long, almost wispy, with an intricate hand guard with ivy motifs covering the entire handle.

“Fantastic choice,” Manta Ray says, “I think you’ll find that one’s got some bite to her.”

Calroy runs his fingers along the edge, entranced by the perfect sheen on the blade. “Thank you. I’m indebted to you, Manta Ray Jack.”

“Think nothing of it,” Manta Ray insists, again, “Now, let’s get some drink in you.”

Liam’s at the gorge with Amethar when he hears a squeal. It sounds so familiar, and yet he can’t bring himself to believe it until Preston launches himself at Liam.

Liam bursts into tears, and something in him only sort of heals. It’s vaguely disappointing, but Liam figures he can shelf it and deal with it later. Preston is in his arms, and it strikes Liam that he’s missed the equivalent of Preston’s childhood. Preston’s gained about eighty pounds since Liam last saw him, and he’s changed. Liam’s changed, too. But there’s something fundamentally different about Preston now. Liam’s had Preston for ten years and he’s always been the runt of the litter. He’s grown more in the last few months than in his whole life. Preston chuffs, resting his head against Liam’s chest. Liam, brought out of his thoughts, feels a little of the darkness in his body drain away, but it still sits there, stuck like burned sugar at the bottom of a pot.

When they make it to the boat (because the guards in Dulcington never stood a chance against them), Liam and Lapin start spending more time together. It’s an unlikely friendship, but Liam feels bad that Preston isn’t getting to spend as much time with his other favorite person.

“Are you still mad at me?” Liam asks one day when Lapin gifts him a spellbook.

“What?” Lapin blinks, dumbfounded.

“Oh shit, that means you were never mad at me, right?” Liam realizes, “And that means I’ve been worried about nothing. Fuck.”

“No, Liam, I was never mad at you,” Lapin says, laughing a little, “Why would I be mad at you? I gave you my old spellbook.”

“Sorry,” Liam mutters, cheeks flushed bright red. Lapin, thankfully, moves on, and they go over the spells together.

“So, do I have to sell my soul to the Sugar Plum fairy to get spells?” Liam asks, flipping through the book and skimming it.

“In theory, no,” Lapin says, “But I was never smart enough to learn them the right way. Like Lazuli. The Sugar Plum Fairy _gave_ me the powers, but I didn’t need any understanding of them. It’s like the difference between rowing a boat and knowing how to navigate by the stars.”

Liam nods, returning to his book.

“You know, Liam, right before I died, I realized something,” Lapin says, looking at a map in the ship’s hold, “The Bulb and the Hungry One, they’re not good or evil. They just _are_.”

Liam shuts the book and lays it in his lap, leaning back against the gently tapered walls of the ship. Preston snores gently beside him. “Hmm?”

“They’re not conscious beings, I don’t think,” Lapin frowns, “But rather, opposing forces. Like magnets. The Hungry One destroys, obviously, so the Bulb creates.”

“What about all the other stuff?” Liam asks, “We’re constantly creating and destroying, but there’s other things. Like right now, we’re not creating or destroying anything.”

“You know, I hadn’t thought of that before,” Lapin says, “Obviously, I died right after, so the thought felt rather final.”

“Yeah,” Liam strokes Preston’s head, which is now roughly the size of a cannonball, “That does seem pretty final to me.”

A few minutes later, Cumulous joins them with some lunch and three glasses of milk tea. He helps them pour over the ship’s meager library in the hold. Manta Ray, of course, says it’s all been legally and ethically sourced, but neither Cumulous, Lapin, nor Liam can find any reason to believe him or care.

They’re brought into a chamber that radiates magic like humidity off the hot ground. Then, they see her. A young woman who Amethar can’t help but notice bears a striking resemblance to Catherine Ghee sits on the throne, and he knows that his past is about to catch up to him.

“What’s your name?” Amethar asks, desperation creeping into his voice. He remembers Catherine. He never knew she had a daughter, but in that moment, he hopes.

“Saccharina Frostwhip.” Amethar’s heart falls for a moment. “But you may know me better as Saccharina Ghee.”

Amethar smiles. “I’ve had a lot of bad news lately. This is--you couldn’t have come at a better time.”

Saccharina grins back. She begins to speak, but Caramelinda interrupts her.

“Wait--you said this means you have a claim to the throne?”

“Yes. My father, and you, have been excommunicated by the church, but I am the child of my father’s legal marriage, making my claim to the throne legitimate.”

Amethar looks over to see Jet and Ruby whispering excitedly in twinspeak. He does some quick mental math, but unfortunately, he is very bad at math. He thinks maybe he shouldn’t take Saccharina’s claims at face value, but nobody else seems at all concerned. Even Caramelinda shrugs, looking around the grand hall.

“Uh--Saccharina,” Amethar says, looking over at his other daughters, “These are your sisters, Jet and Ruby Rocks.”

Saccharina smiles even brighter. “I have sisters?”

Amethar nods, “And a cousin--”

“Hi, I’m Liam Wilhelmina, and I just wanted to ask--could I kill this little man right here?”

Swifty, the little gingerbread man under Saccharina’s… employ? says something that, frankly, Amethar has trouble deciphering. His hearing’s been going downhill lately, and Swifty speaks at the pitch of a dog whistle. Apparently, it’s funny, because everyone else laughs. The woman at the side of Saccharina’s throne looks at her with a long-suffering glance.

They have a feast before they get to work. Liam, Ruby, and Jet get into the fermented yak’s milk, and before long they’re dancing on the long, heavy wooden tables.

“We wanted to meet up with my uncle, Joren Jawbreaker,” Amethar says, and Saccharina grins a little.

“We _have_ been engaged in a bit of a pissing contest recently. I think it would be very funny if you went and announced that I was your daughter and the Queen of Candia.”

“Your majesty,” Saccharina’s right-hand man, Gooey, says, “The Sugar Plum Fairy.”

“Oh, right,” Saccharina says, pursing her lips, “I have been planning a raid on the Sugar Plum Fairy for quite a while now.”

She pauses, and Gooey whispers something to Saccharina. Saccharina nods.

“It appears that Jawbreaker has been forced out of House Manylicks,” Gooey announces, moving Jawbreaker’s forces on the battle map into the forest, “The Bulbians were burning nearby towns and slaughtering villagers, so he left and subsequently got cornered in the forest.”

“I have no problem leaving the Sugar Plum Fairy for another day,” Saccharina says, “If you would like to go save your uncle, I would be glad to send troops after you.”

Later that night, after they’re done planning, Saccharina finds Amethar and asks to speak to him in private.

“Saccharina,” Amethar says, and there’s a tilt to his voice that makes it sound almost affectionate.

“Why did it take you so long to find me?” Saccharina asks, because she can’t help herself, “Did you look for me?”

“Of course I looked for you,” Amethar says, “I sent so many people to look for Catherine. I loved her. I just… never found her. I never knew you were born.”

“I spent my whole life wondering where you were,” Saccharina smiles, remembering every day she’d ever felt lonely, “And now you’re here and… I don’t know how to feel.”

“It’s okay, we can figure it out later,” Amethar says, hands warm on Saccharina’s shoulders, “I’m sorry I never found you. Right now, we have a war to win.”

Jet waits inside the sugar hut with her father, waiting for something big to happen. Jet, recently, hasn’t had any inclinations towards sneaking, so she doesn’t follow Ruby or Liam into the cover of night.

“Pops,” Jet whispers, but she finds that she doesn’t really have anything to say. She shares a look with Amethar, who wraps one arm around her shoulder and pulls her in. Her father is warm and solid, as he’s always been. Jet leans a head against his shoulder. She glances around the room and finds Saccharina. Saccharina stares pointedly out of the boarded up window.

Jet gently dislodges Amethar’s arm and approaches Saccharina. “You know, you’re pretty awesome. I can’t wait to see you kick some ass.”

Saccharina blinks. “Oh. Thank you, little sister.”

Jet thinks about reaching out some more. Her hand twitches out, reaching for Saccharina’s hand, when Ruby’s voice comes through. Then the big thing happens. Jet’s great-uncle is led to the gallows and swings like a chandelier.

Saccharina and Theo are gone in an instant, but Jet peers through the windows and sees Saccharina flying above the crowd, the wind whipping her hair, and lightning streaks across a previously cloudless sky.

“Wow,” Jet says, breathless.

As soon as Saccharina gets back, Jet knows it’s time to go. Luckily, Amethar steps out of the hut and does all the talking for them. Then Jet, Calroy, Manta Ray, and Amethar spill out into the fray.

“One!” Manta Ray shouts as someone dies.

“I’m already on two!” Amethar yells back. Jet realizes Cal is unusually silent, focused and methodical about his kills. His strokes have absolutely no flourish to them at all. He looks almost… angry. Jet chooses to put it on the backburner and skewers a Ceresian soldier through the shoulder.

She finishes the soldier with two quick jabs to the base of his throat. He sinks to the ground, blood burbling up through the hole in his trachea, and Jet scans the crowd for her next victim.

“Commander Grissini!” Jet yells over to him, “Call off your troops! Let’s talk about this.”

“Ah, Princess--uh--Lady? Jet Rocks!” Grissini yells back, “I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. Your family decided to postpone the execution of a witch and a traitor.”

“Haven’t you heard?” Jet grins, pushing through the fray towards Grissini, “I’m a bastard now.”

They circle one another, weapons drawn, waiting for the other to make the first move.

“Terribly sorry to hear that your father was unfaithful,” Grissini says.

“No you’re not.” Jet takes a swing, and it’s a little wild. It pings off of Grissini’s shield, and he thrusts his spear forward, scraping across Jet’s back.

“I had hope, before, that your family wouldn’t trust in unholy entities for something as sinful as magic--”

“All religion is magic!” Jet interrupts, “Alfredi used magic! Brassica uses magic! It all just looks different!”

Grissini genuinely stops for a minute, and he almost looks like he’s thinking. Jet disarms him effortlessly, throwing his spear into the ground beside Saccharina. Gooey picks it up and guts a Vegetanian soldier. Jet turns back and begins advancing on Grissini. Flickorice _pings_ off of Grissini’s shield.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Am I bad? Commander, am I bad because I do not follow the Bulb? Am I dishonorable, Constano?” Jet watches, with a feeling almost like delight, as Grissini’s eyes fill with terror.

“I--Okay! I’ll talk,” Grissini breaks, “Just--we need to go somewhere private. Push me into the woods.”

Jet obliges, and she takes the malice off her strikes as she pretends to fight Grissini into the forest. As soon as they’re out of sight, Jet sheathes Flickorice and Grissini lets down his guard.

“What do you think is going to happen?” Grissini hisses, “What are the outcomes of this encounter? What--I leave, I go with you, and I die when they catch me again? Or I stay and you kill me? Jet Rocks, that’s no choice to make. Even if I did believe you--which I do not--I cannot in good conscience leave with you, and I’m at your mercy here.”

“You don’t have to believe me, Constano,” Jet whispers back, “Not now, not ever. There are Bulbians fighting for us. Sir Morris Brie is a good and honorable man, and he knows that what these people are doing is wrong. They are trying to kill all of us. Regardless of what we’ve done. If you come with us, I can prove it to you. I will protect you.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” Grissini asks, “This goes against everything I’ve ever known.”

“I’ve been learning things like that ever since Stilton Cordon Bleu tried to kill my father before the tournaments,” Jet replies, “And… I don’t know if this will be enough, but--”

Jet removes her locket, placing it around Grissini’s neck. “The other half belongs to my sister. This locket means more to me than more things.”

Grissini pauses, rubbing a thumb over the lines of the locket. “If this is a trick just so you can kill me, it’s very cruel.”

“Hey, look at me,” Jet says, staring into Grissini’s golden-brown eyes, “I’m not trying to trick--”

_“Ruby! Jet! We need to go!”_ Amethar’s voice rings, almost unnaturally loud, through the town.

“Shit. We need to run,” Jet says, grabbing Constano’s free hand and running back into the fray. By now, the dirt on the ground has been kicked up, and people are running and crying out. The ground is shaking and Jet sees, for a moment, something giant and menacing stomping through the clouds of dust. Grissini stares at the faint outline of the creature. They run into the sugar hut just as it is about to fall, and they dive through the portal. They tumble out the other side, in shock.

“Jet, get back!” Ruby yells, training Sour Scratch on Constano.

“No, no, it’s okay! It’s okay, he’s with me,” Jet says, getting in front of Constano. The room is deathly silent, and Jet can only hear her heart pounding in her chest.

Ruby lowers Sour Scratch and scowls. “Watch your back, Commander Grissini.”

Later that night, there’s a war counsel. Everyone sits in the monastery's library, pouring over letters and maps and troop movements. By the end of it, Ruby can’t help but notice that Grissini looks a little pale.

“The Ramsian Doctrine,” Grissini mumbles to himself, “We were always warned about things like that. Many years in the past, so long ago that the details of the story have been lost, we lost a small village close to the Meat Lands. They called it the Ketoaen Massacre. It sounds like it may have been a precursor to this Doctrine. I can’t help but worry that, given that this looks like a systemic takeover by the Bulbian Church, that we aren’t high up on their list of holy peoples.”

“Welcome to the party, Constano,” Ruby says, half-joking. Constano doesn’t laugh, but he does give Ruby a look that’s desperately concerned. Ruby feels a little bad, but not bad enough to apologize. He did try to kill them.

Grissini falls silent for the rest of the meeting, flicking through the letters on his own and looking lost in thought.

“What do you think, Constano?” Amethar asks, “You know the troop movements better than anyone else.”

“Hm?” Grissini hums, not looking up from a particular letter. Ruby realizes it’s one of the decoded letters between the Pontifex and Keradin.

“Troop movements, Constano,” Ruby says, snapping her fingers. Jet smacks her on the back of the head.

“Oh,” Grissini truly doesn’t absorb what Ruby says, “Hm. Well, apparently, I wasn’t privy to any true knowledge of the Bulbian Crusaders’ movements. _Apparently_ , I was just going to--how do you say--get fucked in the end anyway.”

Amethar sighs, rubbing hard at his eyes. Ruby pats her dad on the hand.

Saccharina speaks up. “You know, I was saying this before, but now that we have Duke Jawbreaker safe, I think the next thing we should do is move on that raid we had planned a while ago.” She lays out a map with the Sugar Plum Fairy’s lair marked. “Especially since we learned of the Sanctus Putrum.”

“Yeah,” Amethar says, nodding, “Yeah. I don’t think the others will be coming after us for a while.”

In the morning, they form two parties. One to find the Sugar Plum Fairy, and the other to take Jawbreaker back to his mansion. Most people know where they’re going, but at the end, Calroy is stuck in the middle. Nobody particularly wants to claim him, and Ruby especially doesn’t care for the idea of Calroy coming with them to find the Fairy.

“I’ll go with Jawbreaker back to his mansion,” Calroy decides, “He can… everyone can keep an eye on me.”

Ruby looks over him and sees, truly, a mess. His hair is disheveled, his eyes are sunken, his pants got torn in the skirmish at Buzzybrook. Everyone leaves, and Ruby can’t help but hold the image of Cal in her mind.

Cal taught her how to hold a sword. Ruby thinks back on it now, and she thinks Calroy might have loved Amethar more than her mother did. She wonders, as she marches through the bitter cold, if that kind of emotion can really be faked.

Lapin has felt useless for months, now. He’s been purposefully sitting out of war council meetings, mostly attending to Caramelinda (although attending, in this case, is just a boring way to say he spends his days with his friend and confidante) and reading up on some of the books in the monastery. 

He’s got a few spells he can cast from his Lollistaff, but other than that, it’s like there’s a wall between him and his magic. He considers, for a few moments, asking Cumulous how he got his powers, but it is not lost on Lapin that the answer will probably be something he could not obtain at his age. He still decides to go see the Sugar Plum Fairy, though. Mostly because there’s some small part of him that thinks he can stop the inevitable.

He doesn’t.

They step into the Sugar Plum Fairy’s chamber and she smiles. “What a lovely surprise! My little bunny has brought you all to me.”

“I’m not yours any more,” Lapin says, “I gave you your wishes.”

“You did, and you left me at the end,” The Fairy says, “And that made me so sad.”

“What do you want?” Ruby calls.

“I want to keep you safe,” The Fairy simpers, “I want you all to come home.”

“Like how I came home?” Lapin asks, but it’s not really a question. The Fairy tries to crush him with a stalactite.

Lapin is, somehow, able to steer the floating blocks of ice. It’s almost narcotic to him, to have that control again. _There has to be some way around this_ , Lapin thinks.

He thinks about what Saccharina said about the Sugar Plum Fairy. She gets her powers from the Bulb. If Lapin could only tap into that energy source

Lapin glows with brilliant, nearly white energy. It’s tinged with purple, but it’s different from the Sugar Plum Fairy’s magic. It’s almost blinding, and Lapin feels intoxicated. He rises up off the platform he’s standing on, and he stretches out his free hand. The Sugar Plum Fairy, shocked beyond belief, is caught on the receiving end of Lapin’s magic, and when Lapin finally lands back on the platform with a handful of Marauders, the Sugar Plum Fairy cries out in pain. She has a large burn on her shoulder.

Lapin _did that_. He reaches out to the place where the wall once was in his head to find the static buzz of magic again. He smiles, and then he starts laughing. In the end, he’s the one who kills the Sugar Plum Fairy, and he does it without an ounce of remorse.

The Jawbreaker mansion is unlike anything Calroy’s ever seen before. It feels almost familiar, in a way, because Calroy also grew up in a noble house with a large family, but there’s something inherently different about the Jawbreaker house. Every piece of furniture and every inch of stone floor is covered in layers of thick, luxurious furs. The smell of food, incense, and imported herbs permeate the entire house, there are the same mounted animal heads and family portraits that line the walls, but the portraits all feature Jawbreaker and one of his partners gazing adoringly at each other, and the children grinning back at the painter.

Calroy remembers the way his childhood home was. It was wide open, with nauseatingly indulgent gold and marble everywhere. There was no food allowed anywhere except the dining room or the kitchen. There was a _room_ for everything in Calroy’s old house: the kitchen, the dining room, the living room, the family room, the sitting room, and all the entryways, powder rooms, landings, and absolutely useless rooms dedicated to nothing but collecting dust. This house, the one Calroy was in, felt alive.

Calroy overlays his childhood home (was it even a home? No, it was his _father’s_ home) with the Jawbreaker house and feels a pang of loneliness. He turns to find something to take it away, and his gaze falls upon Amethar. They lock eyes for a moment, and Calroy catches some expression he can’t quite place in the man. Then, without a word, Amethar looks away and turns back to his conversation with Saccharina. Calroy takes a moment to brush it off--after all, Saccharina is Amethar’s daughter, but Calroy’s barely gotten a word out of Amethar the whole time they’ve been trying to fix the war.

Part of him feels like he’s making up a reason to feel mad or upset in the middle of a war. Maybe he’s just looking for attention again. Amethar’s busy trying to protect the life of his family.

Calroy finds himself knocking at Amethar’s door later that night, anyway. Amethar opens it, and the same look flies across his face again. Just for a split second.

Amethar’s never been one to hide his feelings, especially from Calroy. “What do you want?”

“Amethar, I want to _talk_ ,” Calroy pleads, “I hiked through the fuckin’ woods all the way from Comida and you’re giving me the cold shoulder.”

“Cal, I--you absolutely _have_ to know I can’t trust you right now,” Amethar sighs, “I mean, really, your brother--allegedly--tried to kill me. Someone with your exact face put a watersteel dagger in my back, went on a tirade about how they killed my entire family, and then pushed me off of my own goddamn tower. I don’t want to distrust you, you were my best friend, but I just… I haven’t known what’s going on in a long time.”

Calroy knew this would happen, he really did. But now there’s no way for him to pretend like it would be fine. Calroy feels crushed by the world where Amethar doesn’t trust him. Calroy’s standing in a doorway miles and miles from home, and he feels alone. He feels _so_ alone. It’s not Amethar’s fault, though, and Calroy knows that.

“Hopefully, after this is all over, I can make it up to you,” Calroy says, turning and beginning to walk away. There’s a hot, heavy feeling behind his eyes, but he hasn’t cried since his first night in Castle Candy, and he’s not about to start now. He walks back to his quarters, which he shares with Lapin.

“Do you think I’m ever going to get back what I used to have?” Calroy asks, turning in his bed to face the wall.

“Do you want a truthful answer, or a compassionate answer?” Lapin drawls, flicking through some documents he rescued from the Sugar Plum Fairy’s lair.

Grissini burns his uniform when he gets to the Jawbreaker mansion. He believed so much in the Concord that he never considered that its allies might be corrupt. When he turns around, he’s greeted by the sight of Ruby Rocks half-hidden in the shadow.

“What do you want?” Grissini asks, not sure what he’s feeling or what he _should_ be feeling.

Ruby walks forward and sits on a chair by the roaring fireplace. “I want to know what _you_ want. Why did you leave?”

“Jet threatened my life and loaned me your special locket,” Grissini says, “She seemed convinced. I was curious, and I think some part of me always knew you and your people would win.”

“So, you were selfish?”

“I guess so,” Grissini shrugs, “But, I defected, and now my troops are even more so doomed than they were before. My actions would have killed anyway, but now I wonder if I have killed more by doing this than I would have if I had stayed.”

Ruby pushes Grissini’s plate armor around in the fire with an iron. “You know this won’t melt, right?”

“It’s more of a symbolic thing,” Grissini sits down on a lounge next to the couch Ruby’s sitting on, “Are you worried I am going to steal Jet from you?”

“Why would I be worried about--” Ruby cuts herself off, hissing as a bit of hot ash hits her hand, “Okay. Maybe I am. Sue me.”

“I don’t blame you,” Grissini shrugs, “But I will tell you that I have--uh--a lot going on right now. I don’t really have time to plot the downfall of your relationship with your sister.”

“I know,” Ruby sighs, “ And, I mean, it’s not just that. I don’t want her to get hurt. We’ve experienced a lot of weird betrayal lately.”

“I still don’t really understand what happened with Lord Cruller,” Grissini admits. He doesn’t know whether or not he’s allowed to laugh until Ruby does.

“Bulb, it’s so fucked up,” Ruby says, “I have no idea what happened either. I was busy being attempt-assassinated by Ciabatta and his cronies.”

“Really?” Grissini perks up a little, “I didn’t know about that.”

“Yeah, he cornered us in a lingerie shop,” Ruby says, “If it weren’t for Calroy, I don’t know what would have happened.”

Grissini hums, watching the fabric of his uniform burn away. He knows in the morning all that will be left will be warped and damaged metal, but it’s comforting nonetheless. He’s stuck in a shift that one of Jawbreaker’s partners gave to him, and he’s grateful, but it feels foreign. He’s worn nothing but that bulbforsaken uniform for months.

“I feel guilty,” Grissini says as they watch the fire, “Knowing what I know now, I feel so guilty that I spent so much time hunting you down.”

“Even me? Even the witches?” Ruby asks, curiously.

“Especially you,” Grissini looks over at her, “I can’t imagine the hurt it would have done to all of Calorum if you had died.”

They fall silent again until Ruby finds another question to ask. “Do you still believe in the Bulb? Or--I guess--the Bulbian idea of the Bulb?”

“I don’t know,” Grissini says, “That’s why I’m scared.”

They get back on a ship and set out for Port Syrup. Calroy really hates boats. Once again, he finds himself without most of his bearings, the only thing really keeping him together at this point. He decides he’s going to spend his time in the sleeping quarters and finds Commander Grissini already there, doing the same thing Calroy’s doing.

“Lord Cruller,” Grissini acknowledges him.

“Don’t call me by that name,” Calroy insists, “It disgusts me.”

“Calroy,” Grissini starts again, “Are you avoiding people?”

“Are _you_ avoiding people?” Calroy sits in a hammock, kicking his feet up.

“Yes, very much so,” Grissini says, “I’m sure you have some idea of what it’s like.”

Calroy hums. “I don’t know how to convince them that I’m not the one behind this.”

“I mean, all you have to do is wait and not betray them,” Grissini points out, “Which, I’m aware, is the problem.”

“Those bastards took my name, my wife, and my family,” Calroy says, almost laughing, “And my good pants.”

“Hey, I had to give up my uniform,” Grissini says, “I’m just glad they gave me this.” He gestures down at the rock candy chainmail the Jawbreakers outfitted him with. He has two scimitars resting in a sheath at the foot of his hammock.

They share a glum laugh which quickly turns into drinking which turns into crying.

“I don’t even know what’s out there!” Grissini says, “At least there’s lore in Candia--I--where do I start with Ceresian legend? Even in the desert--I was trained in the desert and the tribes that roam with the Sourdough Camels, they all followed the faith. There’s nothing there.”

“I don’t know--there’s not really any paganism out in Muffinfield,” Calroy shrugs, “The first time I saw a set of standing stones, I thought they sacrificed people there. Maybe you’re just not looking hard enough, or in the right places.”

“You’re right,” Grissini says, taking another swig of fermented yak’s milk. He grimaces. “You drink this?”

“Not me,” Calroy laughs, “That Wilhelmina kid drinks it like it’s cola, though.”

“Bulb above, I haven’t had good butternog in so long,” Grissini sighs.

“I’ve almost forgotten what the foods from Muffinfield taste like,” Calroy says, “Can’t say I miss them, though. I don’t miss much of anything from Muffinfield.”

The door opens, and Manta Ray Jack walks in. “What’s going on in here? Having a party without us?”

“A pity party, maybe,” Calroy says, raising his glass of yak’s milk to Manta.

“Oh, no, we can’t have this,” Manta Ray says, “You two, hand me the milk.”

Reluctantly, Calroy and Grissini both give Manta Ray their flasks, and Manta Ray shoos them into bed. “You need to rest before tomorrow. Don’t make me tuck you in.”

“Read me a bedtime story,” Calroy demands, and Manta Ray flips them off. All three of them laugh raucously for a minute.

“You know, Costano,” Manta Ray says, “I bet you already know some Ceresian legends. The Dairy Isles are very Bulbian, but we have habits and stories left over from before the Bulb took over. We have the faeries of the Yoghurt Shoals, and before I go to bed every night I leave a bowl of milk out for them by my porthole.”

“Ah,” Grissini says, and then he falls silent. After a minute, Calroy hears snoring.

“Goodnight, Calroy Cruller,” Manta Ray says, softly, “As ill-advised as it is, I believe you.”

Calroy goes to bed smiling for the first time in a while.

Lapin wakes up early. The ship is quiet except for the occasional shuffle of sailors’ boots on the top deck. He gets out of his hammock and walks up the stairs. The time he spent at the Jawbreaker mansion treated him well, and one of Jawbreaker’s partners even put his leg in a brace. It had healed the way it broke, but the brace takes the weight off and relieves most of the pain.

Lapin spends the morning worrying. He watches the sunrise and breathes the salty air, trying to calm down, but he knows he’s going into battle. This isn’t what he was meant to do. Lapin is, unfortunately, a politician. He’s a liar and a thief and he has never wanted to carry out a battle like this. He’s been put in charge of a small field medic squad, a sparse handful of sweetening path druids. They don’t have a uniform aside from a cross-body bag containing a number of medicinal supplies. Healing is the closest Lapin ever wants to come to hurting people ever again.

Lapin breathes and thinks about what awaits him in a few years. He wonders what nothing will feel like. He tries to hurry up and make peace with it, because there is nothing more miserable than an old man who tries to stave off the inevitable. 

The morning of, most of the commotion is from the unloading of the trebuchets. Lapin is quietly running through his medkit with the others, going over spells with them and making sure their components are in order.

The battle dawns fast and bright, and then the battlefield fills with bodies.

Lapin, unused to the hard, indiscriminately good work he’s doing, feels a little hesitation when he treats the first Vegetanian knight. His leg is broken, and since Lapin doesn’t have any energy to spare, he’ll probably have to have it amputated. He screams when Lapin touches him, and his lower leg is a twisted, bloody pulp.

Lapin moves on, running into body after body after body. He’s trailing behind the others, and he desperately wants to know what’s going on, but he contents himself to treating wounds. He runs across Joren Jawbreaker in bad shape and the light, luminescent purple light flows from his paws as he magically seals the wounds. Jawbreaker nods, and Lapin smiles. He begins to think maybe this “good deeds for the sake of doing good” thing has some merit to it, especially when Jawbreaker turns around and cracks someone’s skull open.

Calroy spends the entire first half of the battle trying not to think about Amethar. He stops having to try when he’s the first one to see his brother on a parapet of Castle Candy. He knows immediately that it’s Carter. Calroy knows how to distinguish his brothers in a glance. And he knows one thing.

“That motherfucker is wearing my good pants!” Calroy yells, anguished. 

“Focus,” Grissini barks, “This is a long game, Cruller.”

Grissini is, apparently, incredibly gifted with every weapon on the continent, because he wields his scimitars with a terrifying accuracy. Calroy fights back to back with him, and reminisces about the Ravening War. The sound of people biting the dust beside him doesn’t really give him a choice, so he remembers.

Grissini sheathes his swords and brings Calroy back into the moment. “Your chariot awaits,” Grissini says, pointing to Theo on a Vegetanian chariot which is hurtling towards the castle.

“Great, cool,” Calroy hisses, taking off towards the Castle. Grissini follows, hot on his heels, and they get to the front door just in time to see Carter rush out of the front gate.

Calroy runs to his brother, a dagger drawn, torn pants leg flapping against his ankle, but Amethar is already in the middle of a grandiose speech.

“What is the last part of my title!” Amethar screams. Calroy stalks up behind his brother, blade drawn. He’s close enough to Carter that Calroy gets to answer Amethar’s question.

“The last part of his title, dear brother,” Calroy says, plunging a dagger into Carter’s throat, “Is Amethar, the Unfallen.”

Calroy’s traitorous brother sinks to the ground, clutching at his throat.

“Cal,” Amethar says, soft and vulnerable, “I believe I owe you an apology.”

“Amethar, a man with my face stabbed you and threw you off your own castle,” Calroy says, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Just because I didn’t do something wrong doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt you,” Amethar says, “I hurt Saccharina her whole life, but I didn’t know. I’m still sorry.”

Calroy stops and gazes at Amethar, not quite sure what to make of him. Carter Cruller, Lord of Muffinfield, falls face-first into the dirt, dead as a doornail.

Meanwhile, Grissini is still fighting through the crowds, when he hears someone call out, “Traitor!” from the crowd.

“Are you talking to me?” Grissini asks, turning to see his former subordinate, Domitius Tulius, standing with everything Grissini threw away. He never considered that there would be someone lined up to take his place if he defected. Which he did.

Dimitius advances on Grissini, singling him out. Grissini remembers when they were training, how evenly matched they were. He can’t beat him on sheer force alone.

Dimitius thrusts his spear forward, and Grissini parries and lunges forward with his sword. It grazes the side of Dimitius’ shoulder and he hisses. Grissini sees his old friend look at him with hatred in his eyes. He knows this is how he used to look at witches and heretics. It stings.

“They’re not bad!” Grissini says, “They’re good people! The church will try to kill us next, anyway!”

“Constano, they’ve brainwashed you,” Dimitius says, trying again to hit Grissini. This time he succeeds. Grissini can feel the side of the spear’s point _thwack_ against his collarbone. He knows it’s broken. In another instant, the spear is buried in the same shoulder. Grissini screams out as white, blinding pain fills his head. He blinks stars out of his eyes to find himself on the ground, with Dimitius standing over him. Instead of feeling scared, though, a strange feeling rises in Grissini’s chest. At first he thinks he might vomit, but then--

Dimitius is the one who is screaming. Grissini floats above the battlefield. The smell of rich, toasting rice fills the air and heat radiates from Grissini’s fingertips. It’s certainly not a Bulbian’s magic by any means. The air around him turns hot and shimmers like he’s back in the Desert, and Grissini watches as Dimitius begins to burn in front of him. Grissini feels a comfortable warmth fill him from his toes to his head, and he watched Dimitius’ skin turn bronze, then brown, then black. By the time Grissini is back on the ground, Dimitius is nothing but dust. There’s a perfect circle of charred grass around what used to be his friend.

Grissini looks at his hands. There’s a gentle, warm breeze that passes over the field, and for a moment, Grissini smells home. For a moment, he hears the sound of the wheat forests sway. The heat fades from his fingertips.

He sees Ruby and Jet standing a few feet from him, and only realizes then that they had both come to save him.

“I knew there was something special about you,” Jet smiles. Ruby nods approvingly, also cracking a smile. Grissini grins wildly. He wants to know everything about magic.

Liam Wilhelmina is in his garden. It’s been years since the Bulbian War. He gets a missive from a very familiar looking hawk.

The letter reads, very simply, _Come to Castle Candy. Urgent._

Liam sends Yak off again, grabs his crossbow, and starts to head out.

Primsy stops him at the door. “Wait, sweetheart, you need your coat. It’s raining outside. Can’t have you sailing in the cold.”

Liam lets Primsy put his wool-lined leather jacket on. She kisses his cheek. Liam turns to the front door only to find Yak sitting on the porch with another letter.

_Jet told me to tell you to bring Primsy._

“Looks like you’re coming too, Duchess Coldbottle,” Liam smiles. Preston comes trotting up, snug in a sweater that Primsy made for him. Five little milk kittens run alongside him, mewing expectantly. Liam tries to tell them they can’t join him, Primsy, and Preston on the sea, but in the end it’s Primsy who puts her foot down and tricks them with a tin of cream into leaving them alone long enough for them to sneak out.

As much as Liam is anxious about the summons, he’s excited to be back on the water. He loves the ocean now. They’re situated on a small island close to the Mountains, so Liam’s never too far from home. More than the ocean, though, he loves sailing with Primsy. She grew up sailing, and she’s always been more gifted in regard to the sea. Today, she sings, and a number of tiny, bioluminescent sprites fly in from the horizon. The sun sets and the sprites sit on the edge of the boat, lighting the deck. Liam handles the rigging while Primsy steers, navigating using an astrolabe gifted to her at their wedding by Annabelle Cheddar.

Liam has never really been one for singing, and Primsy sings in Lacra, a language Liam doesn’t have a real handle on yet. But Liam _loves_ listening to Primsy sing. It’s different from the songs he heard growing up, most of which were raucous drinking songs. Primsy sings beautiful and haunting, and she even sings as she holds the astrolabe up to the stars. Someday Liam will learn a song or two.

They make it to Port Syrup in record time. They rush to the castle and find it quiet and somber.

“Lapin’s quarters,” Theobald Gumbar says, greeting them at the front door. Liam immediately knows what he means, and even Preston seems anxious.

Liam’s been keeping correspondence with Lapin, and he never mentioned illness or injury. He sets off towards Lapin’s quarters, and Primsy lays a hand on Liam’s arm.

“Don’t worry, sweetest,” Primsy says. Liam takes a breath, and they walk together through the halls. They find everyone gathered around Lapin’s bed, and Liam’s worst fears are confirmed when he hears Lapin’s labored breathing.

“Wilhelmina,” Lapin rasps, “You made it.”

“I couldn’t let Preston down like that,” Liam says, wiping a tear from his cheek.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Lapin says, “I am an old man. I’ve made my peace with a second death. I should have left the world about twenty years ago.”

Liam sits on a chair next to Lapin’s bedside. Primsy and Ruby sit next to Liam, both of them leaning on him. They wait as the room fills with people over the next three days. As people trickle in, Liam watches Lapin grow less and less aware.

“This happens now,” Ruby says, “He sometimes… he’s been doing this for a while. He has good days and bad days.”

Lapin looks through Liam and says, “Freddie?”

On the third day, everyone’s back at the Castle. Lapin’s having a good day, he’s sitting up with Preston in his lap, and he even takes a plate of food and a goblet of cola.

“What have you been up to?” Lapin asks Saccharina, “Awful rude of you and Jet to leave Ruby alone in the castle.”

“I haven’t been alone,” Ruby bickers, “You’ve been here, being a pain in the ass every day of the week.” (Theo and Gooey have been there too, but they’re too busy teaching new recruits or holed up in their quarters doing Bulb knows what to spend time with Ruby.)

At the same time, Saccharina says, “Went to the Ceresian country with Constano and Jet to try and bring back the magic there. We’ve been very successful.”

“Good,” Lapin smiles, “Magic should be everywhere.”

They continue to talk into the night. Amethar was named Emperor of the Concord, and Caramelinda went with him to Comida along with Calroy Cruller and Sir Amanda Maillard. He arrived by ship to Port Syrup, so naturally, Manta Ray, Sir Morris Brie, and Annabelle Cheddar are there, along with Annabelle’s adopted daughter Aoife. Everyone gathers around and trades stories, and soon Lapin’s deathbed feels more like a reunion.

At eleven at night, Lapin turns. He starts rattling again, and when he lays down, the room quiets. He reaches for Liam’s hand.

“Remember,” Lapin wheezes, “The Bulb and the Hungry one are not forces of good or evil. They are creation and destruction. And everything else--”

He coughs.

“Everything else is life,” Liam says through the lump in his throat, “And to live is to change.”

“Good kid,” Lapin breathes, his chest emptying and growing still. Preston snorts, nosing at Lapin’s other hand.

Manta Ray takes off his cap, and they bury Lapin in the morning. There is no Bulbian blessing, because Lapin doesn’t need one.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed :3. you can find me at louwilsonsimp on [tumblr](https://louwilsonsimp.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/louwilsonsimp). comments and kudos are so appreciated!


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